Mirror, Mirror
by PenPistola
Summary: Saito is fascinated with the idea of forging within dreams-and with the forger.


**From the Inception Kink Meme:**

**Prompt:** [GEN] - Missing scene from the movie: as they follow projection!Browning back to his hotel room, Saito geeks out over Forging and peppers Eames with a billion questions about it. (Why doesn't the image translate into mirrors?, Can you forge in a different language?, What usually gives the illusion away?, etc.) Eames indulges him, charmed by his enthusiasm. Flirting from Eames is always welcome, but not necessary.

**A/N:** Turned into some very slight Saito/Eames, which is sort of odd. 966 words, PG. Don't sue, plox.

"Fascinating," Saito gushes as they trail Browning (the "real" one, that is) in his winding course through Arthur's dream hotel. Eames grins. Saito's managed to get over the shock of discovering he'd been duped by the forger rather quickly, channelling it into curious enthusiasm instead. It's odd seeing the usually collected other man so eager about something, but any flattery is good flattery to Eames. So he humours the other man when the questions start coming.

"Who is the blonde woman?" Saito whispers as Eames pulls them into an alcove. Browning seems a tad on edge, pausing every now and then to look around him, and it makes Eames wonder what exactly 'Mr. Charles' is getting up to. Perhaps they'll wait a moment to follow.

"Her name is Brigid," Eames explains with a sly look in Saito's direction. Saito answers with a conspiratorial smile. "She was a lounge singer I saw once in Chicago. Struck me as somebody people might be... interested in."

"Oh, certainly."

Browning's moved on a bit, having hung a sharp left around the corner. There are no alcoves in which to hide in the hall Browning's chosen, so Eames and Saito carefully peep around the corner to watch where he goes.

"He's taking a roundabout route to the room," Saito realises.

"Yeah, likely."

The silence only lasts a couple of seconds. "So how come your reflection wasn't disguised as well?" Saito breathes. Browning ducks into a service passage, and the two men tiptoe after him.

"An interesting question," Eames says with a smile. Forgery has always been so fascinating, and sharing it with someone else only moreso. "The dream exists due to the dreamer. The projections, like our Mr. Browning, are here because of the subject. Forging works the same way; it starts in the mind of the forger." He taps a finger to his temple. "But you see, as much as you and poor Mr. Fischer are fooled by my forgery, _my_ brain isn't. You and I and the rest of us enter a dream looking like ourselves, because it's how we perceive ourselves. What you see in the mirror is just my own subconscious perception showing through."

"Brilliant!" whispers Saito happily, and Eames chuckles. The way Saito's eyes go tight at the corners when he smiles is really quite adorable. Unfortunately, while thinking about his response, Eames has managed to lose Browning.

"Shit."

Saito ducks around him and indicates a door leading back to the hotel's main hallway. "Through there. Pay attention, Mr. Eames, kudasai."

Eames doesn't want to return Saito's smirk, but finds himself doing it anyway. "Observant."

Another question seems to occur to Saito as they creep after their mark; Eames can tell by the cant of Saito's head as he turns around.

"Can you forge in only one language?" he asks. "Or, like the guns, is it something you can manipulate at will?"

"Aha," Eames grins. Saito really is quite on his game today with the questions. No one's asked him so much about forging in a long time, and though he feels his attention slipping away from Browning again, he can't help but answer. "I can't do just any language, but I can some. The guns are quite easy to recreate in dreams, but you still must needs have at least seen one in order to do it. My little M32, for example, I'd tried at a firing range in real life. I knew how it was 'supposed' to work, and while I didn't know the exact mechanics of the thing, my brain filled in the rest."

"Ah, I see," Saito nods. "I presume forging works the same way? If you've got experience with a language, you can make it work?"

"Well, in a way."

"Am I incorrect?"

"Not as such." Browning is getting closer to the hotel room where Cobb and the others should be now, and Eames puts a hand on the grip of the Walther P38 he'd dreamt for himself. "In order to be truly convincing, you have to at least speak a functional version of the language you're trying to imitate." He turns to Saito and grins. "But there is a bit o' leeway for yer accent." Saito blinks at Eames' uncanny reproduction of a southern US drawl. "Les détails sont votre responsabilité. Più meglio parlate la lingua, il migliore le vostre probabilità. Sou desu ne?"

By the end of it, Saito's mouth hangs open a bit. "Mr. Eames, I am impressed."

"It's why, Mr. Saito, I'm simply the best." Eames bows with a flourish. "At using forgery for extraction, and as a means to provide... _other_ services."

Saito raises an eyebrow. "Quite a talent." They round the next corner and there Browning is, approaching the room the others are waiting in. Time to move. But Saito's voice is close and obscenely low when he next whispers in Eames' ear. "Truth be told, Mr. Eames, fascinating as forgery is, I much prefer you as you are."

Eames is so surprised that he forgets to attack Browning; it's Saito's judiciously applied pistol butt to the head that brings the dark-skinned projection down. Eames hurries to catch up with Saito and gives Browning a few kicks for good measure before the door opens to the rest of the team standing there with Fischer.

Eames nearly forgets about the whole thing until the gunshot wound catches up with Saito and Cobb has to go and bring him back. They all wake up on the plane again, blinking and wondering whether they were actually able to pull it off; if this is reality. Then Eames catches Saito staring at himself in the mirror of the men's room at LAX after they've arrived. He stands behind Saito, and they lock eyes with each other's reflections. Eames winks.


End file.
